The Ambitions of Few
by CrazyIndigoChild
Summary: Everyone wants something, that's no secret, but few are ambitious enough to do something about it. The fun thing is not everyone can have what they want. The short straws are many, the long ones are few, and someone always gets hurt. All is fair in love and war... and this is definitely war! Tugger/Misto/Munk. Macavity. Torture. Angst. Gore?


**I recently got this book from the lovely Delphicoracle-Cat called "The 3am Epiphany" which has a ton of really awesome writing prompts. We opened the book and found the prompt entitled "Wants" **

**Basically two characters want the same thing, but if one gets it then the other doesn't :( So, why not have a little sibling rivalry between my favourite set? Tugger and Munkustrap :D We all have the basic jist of their love-hate relationship, now let's see how far their willing to push the envelope!**

**My first attempt at a not-very-long story :) Hopefully I can keep this to 5 chapters so I can actually get it done ;)**

**Thanks goes to Delphi for also beta-ing!**

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He inhaled deeply, trying to take it all in. There was a certain beauty in the way the clouds shimmered in the setting sun, like neon arrows setting the stage for the most devastating death scene: the end of yet another perfect day. Being in a junkyard, there was no sweet, complimenting scent to the air, but music and laughter seemed to travel along the wind rather beautifully tonight.

Four months, he recalled, since the Jellicle Ball. A peace had settled over the junkyard since the threat of Macavity making a reprise after the Ball slowly faded, now mere glimpses of thought featured in the most kittenish of nightmares. And nothing more.

Everyone had a reason for smiling; the welcoming of summer litters; the afternoons were cooler, making chores during the day a little more tolerable; and the emergence young love leaving the carefree delusions of summer for a more mature, _adult_ respect in the challenging winter months. With no other way to put it: life was looking pretty good for Deuteronomy's tribe.

In the golden-orange haze of reflected sunlight, the Jellicles leisurely percolated into the clearing to enjoy each others' company for the remainder of the evening. Kittens roughhoused near the middle of the clearing (due to Jenny's persistent oaths that one day they'd crack their tiny skulls open on that rusty death-trap of an oven) while their parents watched nearby. Those who weren't burdened with the social structures among the kittens, and the correlation of that to cracked skulls, sat with either other freed characters such as themselves, or doted on the handsome Rum Tum Tugger.

Munkustrap sighed on exhale; nothing short of the apocalypse could ruin the picturesque scene of the tribe, his home and future dynasty, this moment was his and he wasted no time in savouring it for all it was worth.

"...Sir." From the clouds his mind sprang back down with a start, making his muscles recoil and twitch. Aware now of the two standing before him, he regarded them with a wary, if not embarrassed look. "We have been keeping an... eye out, if you will, and we've nothing to report," the queen finished with a crooked smile.

"Thank you, I appreciate your thoroughness. I might actually get some sleep tonight!"

She chuckled with him, her distracted brother eyeing the commotion of tumbling kittens behind them and, if Munkustrap wasn't wrong, glancing longingly after a small triplet of eligible queens across the way. "If I never heard that before, I might believe it."

Such a lovely queen, she was. It almost made him sad to think that she'd passed yet another opportunistic mating season without a tom to her name; Everlasting knows she'd make an excellent mate and, curse him for thinking about such intimate matters, a fine mother as well. But, as they always did, the two siblings would simply avoid the temptations of social responsibility by locking themselves away in their den until morning. "Say, Tantomile, why don't you and Coricopat stick around for a while? It's a wonderful night, and I hear there's going to be a meteor shower later on."

"I heard no such thing!" Coricopat stated, now redirected to his sister's side at the mentioning of his name.

"I thought you'd appreciate the excuse to stick around," Munkustrap smiled, jutting his chin past them towards the queens he'd been looking at.

Tantomile's smile was soft and apologetic: a near exact replica of his own mendacious, all-is-well grin. "Thank you, Sir..." Again with the Sirs! The title Sir always seemed to leave him with this cold... old feeling inside. It was an unflattering and ugly word that, hard as he tried to correct them, would never be able to pry it free of their image of him. That's how he knew that he and Tantomile were never meant to be. "But I think it's best if we turn in for the night. It's been a long day and... Goodnight."

Her greeting fell short of graceful and mystic-esque (as was their humour) when she caught wind of the few unannounced cats crossing the threshold of the steely, cold junkyard into the clearing.

Admetus, and Jellylorum and Mistoffelees.

She could feel his overwhelming presence before anyone had the slightest chance of sniffing him out. Of course it wasn't a bad 'overwhelming', but more a nuisance seeing as his recent hobby of honing and exercising his magical gifts were... well... a distraction.

It seemed to be Jellylorum who'd steered the two towards the oversized tire, all the while reiterating a wonderfully embarrassing story of the young tux as a kit. If it weren't the pale flush of his face, the sudden and insistent change of topic as they drew near cut the conversation just outside of earshot. The old queen nudged him with a sly grin before turning her attention to the three. "What a lovely evening, isn't it?"

They all politely agreed, Munkustrap and Tantomile each in turn nuzzled her in greeting. Coricopat, however, eyed Mistoffelees miserably. "You've been keeping busy," he stated with an unapologetic edge.

"I didn't realize I had to check in with you every time I wanted to make a coin disappear," retorted Mistoffelees crisply . The mystic tom grunted softly and turned to his sister, eyebrows high on his forehead as though asking a question.

She had been rubbing her temples tenderly when she'd caught her duplicate's disapproving stare. She shook her head no, silently pleading with him to not get into specifics with the youth, not here. Thankfully, he relented. "As I've said, it has been a very long day. We should get some rest."

The others bid them goodnight as the two quickly slinked out of the clearing to their respective den. Mistoffelees watched them pause a moment in the shadow of the TSE, their united gaze catching his for a moment before the spot in which they stood became an ominous dark indent in the lighted atmosphere of the glade.

A small sigh whistled past his ear, leaving shivers across his skin. "What was that?"

Munkustrap, who had also been watching their leave, snapped his head to the small tom at the sound of his voice. "I hadn't said anything."

"Oh," coughed a bothered Mistoffelees, batting at the slight ringing in his ear. "Well, I have something to show you. Come on."

"...They're pebbles?"

"Guess again!"

Munkustrap pinched one of the tiny rocks between his finger and held it up to the candlelight; five others of different shapes and colours sat heavily in the palm of his other hand. As if to test it out, he began tossing the stone up in the air and catching it. "Paper weights? Garden decor? Mistoffelees, I really don't-"

"Give me those before you break them." The smaller tom jumped up from behind and caught the mysterious rock mid-air. Munkustrap turned to face him, rolling the others in his palm with his thumb. Instructing the tabby to pay close attention, Mistoffelees proceeded to rub the pebble between his open hands.

When he held it out for the other to see, Munkustrap's jaw dropped at the glowing ember in the white-socked hand. The tiny fault lines of light ebbed softly, filling the small den around them with ghostly shapes and shadows. It was a while before Mistoffelees spoke. "They're runes," he began, sounding breathy and awed. "I made them myself. They're sensitive to energy, so if anything passes them they light up like Christmas lights."

Dubiously, Munkustrap nodded down at the smaller tom, obviously not quite getting the point. "Okay... That's nice!"

Mistoffelees groaned a little. "We put them around the junkyard so, whenever we get any unwanted visitors, we'll know before everyone in the tribe has to."

"Like an alarm! That's brilliant, Mistoffelees!" In the grips of excitement Munkustrap impulsively reached out to grab Mistoffelees' shoulder with his free hand, giving it a friendly squeeze.

The young tux stiffened at the touch, confused, before letting himself be praised by the revered tom. It wasn't really that big of a deal; now, if he were to encase the tribe in one giant bubble...

He did enjoy the feel of Munkustrap's hand caressing his fur, however. Perhaps a little too much?

He coughed once and cleared his throat. "Would you like some tea?" Mistoffelees blinked up at the tabby tom, immediately catching his soft, dilated gaze and holding it fast in the short space between them.

"That would be lovely," Munkustrap finally said. How long they stood there staring at each other he had no idea, he only knew the fast, thrusting throb of his heart dancing about his chest. Perhaps he had some magic of his own: Mistoffelees remained stock still despite, seemingly frozen under his hand.

Careful fingers trailed down the length of his arm before releasing Mistoffelees to tend to his offer; he shook himself out of such a silly trance with a beet coloured flush, shrinking off into the shadows of his dimly lit den to fetch the kettle. "Make yourself at home, if you can."

If he could. Munkustrap took a sweeping glance about the cluttered den to find no sittable space unoccupied by papers, books, or strange gadgets. Well, he has to sleep. To the slightly less busy bed he went and began the delicate task of lifting the stacks of papers and writing tools off the blankets. He'd need two hands so he set the runes aside in a glass bowl, decidedly holding onto one for later.

It has been an accident, really! Just as he was shifting one leather-bound notebook, the papers nearly exploded out the other side and all over the floor. "Everlasting!" he hissed to himself, tossing a glance where Mistoffelees had disappeared before throwing himself after the mess. Now, he wasn't one to snoop, but he couldn't help notice the ugly dark smears bleeding through the pages.

They were pictures- drawings, to be exact. Sweeping and curling strokes repeatedly highlighting terrifying almond eyes; one even had the disturbing scene of a crumpled black-and-white cat lying in a pool of what was assumed to be blood. It made him sick to his stomach, but Munkustrap felt he had to see these: he had to know what-

"I've been having nightmares," Mistoffelees whispered from just a few feet away. "I...I thought that if I could get stronger with my magic..." he trailed off at the sight of his deflated corpse on the page in Munkustrap's hand. His heart skipped a beat, the bitter taste of bile creeping up his throat. "I-I don't remember drawing that one."

Coming around to stand beside the tabby, Mistoffelees stared at the yellowed paper; he let his eyes dimly pass over the short, jagged strokes of his blood-matted black fur; the livid red ink dark on his neck and chest, barely any white below his chin; hashed, black pen marks scratched in the unseeing eyes. A runaway tear trickled down Mistoffelees' cheek.

He'd wiped it away fast enough, but Munkustrap needn't see a tear to understand how Mistoffelees felt; he could imagine how silly he looked right with the blood drained from his face. Fortunately the tux was too preoccupied to point out his stuttered breath.

"This doesn't exactly mean it's going to happen."

Mistoffelees nodded. "I know," he whispered

Munkustrap flinched away when the smaller tom reached out for the drawing; there was nothing more for him in the viciously penned wells of red and black. Without a word he folded the paper into one tiny square, showing the benign yellow-white side of the stationery before tossing it into the flame of a nearby candle.

Once the last of the evidence turned to ash, he turned back to the tux. His hands landed comfortingly on the young tom's shoulders. "Keep practising if it makes you feel better," he demanded. Mistoffelees head bowed in shame at the fresh tears glazing over his eyes, but what Munkustrap had to say was important, so he lifted a hand from his shoulder to coax a trembling chin out from the fur of his chest.

The tabby resisted the very tempting urge to brush away the stray strands of fur from his delicate eyes, but settled with caressing the smooth curve of jaw with the pad of his thumb. In a softer voice he said, "You're already the most powerful cat I know; there is absolutely nothing you can't do. Even then, I won't let anything like that happen to you. You have my word."

Mistoffelees stared up at him, his glorious pale blues wide and glassy, looking for any inkling of doubt. Call him loony, but what he saw instead made his blood boil. It was a look he'd seen before; something curiously heavier than any word of encouragement, he knew, but tugged at the pit of his chest just the same. It might have just been the light: the spastic flicker and licks of fire casting shadows that, as far as one knew, may not even be there. Sure as it made sense in his mind, Mistoffelees hoped he was mistaken. The thumb on his jaw stroked heat against his skin making him uncomfortably hot; on his shoulder he could feel the blood pulsating through the veins in Munkustrap's fingers that occasionally twitched against him.

Mistoffelees opened his mouth to speak, his sand-paper dry tongue making a raspy noise against the roof of his mouth, "Thank..." he paused to clear his throat, to wet his tongue, to look somewhere other than at him. The only other place readily available was his chest but all he could think of was- it just wasn't going to work! So that having blown over, he settled with fixating on the flecks of brown in Munkustrap's deep green-blue eyes. "Thank you."

Now would have been the perfect time, Munkustrap knew, to lead Mistoffelees close with his hand and plant that one kiss he'd been fantasizing (among other things) for so long now. Seriously! Only a fool would pass up such an opportunity. But a fool he was- no! A fool would have jumped in without thinking, a fool would probably be kissing Mistoffelees right now! He was a doubtful, uptight dud who'd missed out yet again.

Head against the black-striped, silver chest, Mistoffelees held Munkustrap in a tight hug. Through the long furred coat the tux could feel the heart beat, strong and healthy, against his cheek. Nuzzling the fur there, he was met with a slow, rumbling purr, and Munkustrap's face pressing down onto the top of his forehead.

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**Well! There certainly seems to be some sort of hurrhurrMunku/Mistohurr lustation, if you catch mah drift ;) If not, then I guess you got lucky; I had spicy chili for supper! Dx**

**Stay posted if you feel oh-so-very-MUCH that I've piqued, tickled, bribed, or harassed your interest.**

**Comment to lemme know what's on your dirty little minds if that seems like something you should (most definitely) do :) Even if you're just ALL-CAPSing a secret fettish you're dying to see. Don't worry, we're all sickos here ;)**


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